


Only Mine

by Lillianrill



Series: I Belong to You [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Fist Fights, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love Confessions, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29859612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillianrill/pseuds/Lillianrill
Summary: Sandor knows what you want from him but is he capable of giving it?
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Reader, Sandor Clegane/You
Series: I Belong to You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195289
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Only Mine

You were laying in bed, vaguely aware that your body was trying to tell you something. However the warmth of the covers and your lover beside you kept you from straying too far into consiousness. Rolling over onto your side, you let your hand lazily drift to his chest where it settled and began to idley stroke through his hair.  
Sandor grumbled sleepily and covered your hand with his own.  
'We should be getting up,' he said without making any move to do so.  
'I know but it's so nice here with you.'  
'You need to be back in your room before anyone wakes.'  
You didn't say anything but tried to shuffle closer instead, pressing yourself to his side and humming contentedly.  
'That's not helping.' He complained.  
You smiled to yourself, knowing that it wouldn't take much to persuade him to stay a while longer.  
You wrapped your leg around his and pulled him towards you for a sleepy kiss which you were pleased to feel him return.  
He eventually groaned in defeat. 'Seven hells woman, you will be the death of me.'  
You just smiled at him as you drew him in once more. Everything else could wait for now...

_____________________________________________

You hurriedly brushed your hair and straightened your dress before making your way to Sansa's room, which was just next to yours.  
'Where have you been?' She asked, looking at you worriedly.  
'I'm sorry, I overslept.'  
'Well breakfast is cold now.'  
You tried to look apologetic as you sat down at the table.

You and Sansa always breakfasted together before you helped her to get ready for the day ahead. As far as she was concerned you were her best friend and she only ever asked you to help her with clothes, hair or makeup.

'Joffrey has summoned me to walk with him in the gardens this morning. You will accompany me won't you?'  
'Of course I will.' You reached over and took her hand in yours, watching her sadly.

Things had turned out very badly for Sansa in the last month or two and you knew that you were the only person in the capital that she trusted.  
Following the death of his father, Joffrey had claimed the throne. The first thing he had commanded under his new title was to have Sansa's father beheaded on false charges of treachery. Joffrey continued to taunt her with his own particular brand of misery and suffering and all Sansa wanted was to return home. Unfortunately that didn't seem very likely and for as long as Sansa remained in King's Landing you would stay with her; neither of you would be heading back north any time soon.

You quickly finished up what little you had on your plate and moved over to the dressing table; you didn't want to make Sansa late too.  
'Come on then,' you sighed. 'Lets get you ready.'

By the time you had finished, Sansa was looking perfectly beautiful.  
'How I wish I was meeting someone else other than Joffrey,' she said sadly.  
'Shush!' You put your finger to your lips. 'You mustn't say such things.'  
She turned from the mirror and looked at you.  
'I know. Sometimes I can't help it though, they just slip out.'  
'Well, try not to,' you scolded her. 'We don't want anything like that getting back to the king.'  
'Of course, you are right...' She was looking at you with a frown.  
'What?' You asked.  
'You haven't done your hair this morning.'  
'I didn't have time.' You shrugged.  
'Here, let me do it for you quickly.'

You switched places at the table and sat while Sansa did your hair in some kind of elaborate style; tugging and pulling it into place and stabbing you with pins.  
You were just about to complain when there was a knock at the door. Sansa called out for whoever it was to enter.  
The door opened and you both turned to see who it was. Standing in the doorway was Sandor.  
He didn't look at either of you; he just announced that Joffrey was waiting and had sent him to find you. He waited for you both to gather yourselves and then strode off down the corridor with you and Sansa trailing in his wake.  
_____________________________________________

'You should have left it how it was.'  
'What?'  
'Your hair. I liked it how it was.'  
You dare not turn to look at him but you let a faint smile cross your lips.  
'And how would that be?'  
'Long, and hanging in my face.' He said in a low voice.  
'Sandor!' You hissed his name, blushing at the meaning of his words.  
He didn't reply, he just kept staring straight ahead along the path.

You and Sandor were in the gardens, following some way behind Joffrey and Sansa as they walked.  
It was difficult for you not to look at him but you had to try and act as if you barely knew him as you continued conversing in low tones.  
Sandor's armour clinked and creaked as he walked and his hand rested on the pommel of his sword. You tried not to think about what those hands had been doing earlier.  
'Do you really think they will marry?' You asked as you watched the two betrothed walking stiffly beside each other.  
'Maybe. He wants the North and she is the key.'  
'There is no way out for her then.'  
'Not unless a better solution comes along.'  
'Do you ever think about getting married?' You risked a small look in his direction.  
'No.' He answered flatly. 'Besides, I belong to the Kingsguard. We take no wives.'  
You couldn't help but be disappointed with his reply but you should have expected nothing less from him. Sandor Clegane was no romantic. Yes, you shared a physical relationship with him but that was all... 

As you walked, you passed others; ladies of the court mainly. Groups of them that saw the pair of you coming and hastily moved out of your way; giggling behind their dainty hands or looking at you with pity, or even worse, horror.  
Sandor didn't take any notice, but deep down inside you felt hurt. No, actually, you felt angry. Who were they to judge you?  
You must have been seething outwardly because Sandor commented.  
'Ignore them. You'll get used to it.'  
You looked at him crossly. 'How can they be like that?'  
'If you're going to be seen with me then that is what you will come to expect.'  
You felt like grabbing him there and then, and kissing him like never before just to give them something to really talk about.  
You continued muttering about them for several minutes before Sandor spoke again.  
'Fiesty little thing aren't you? What are you going to do, fight everyone who gives you a sympathetic look?'  
'If I have to, to get into their thick skulls.'  
'You'll be wasting your time. There aren't enough hours in the day to fight them all.'  
'Well it's unfair and unjust,' you grumbled.  
'Life is unfair and the sooner you learn that the better.'  
You huffed and considered saying something in reply but thought better of it. Instead you steered the conversation in another direction, the upcoming tournament for Joffrey's name day.  
'Will you be taking part in the tourney?'  
'If the King wishes it.'  
'And what about if you wish it?'  
'I will do as I'm bid.'  
You frowned at his unfaltering obedience to Joffrey's demands.  
'Why do you do everything he tells you?'  
'I've told you before, I don't have a choice. I am his sworn shield.'  
'Don't you ever feel like saying no?'  
'Not at the expense of my head.'

You carried on walking in silence until you realised that Joffrey and Sansa had stopped. Joffrey had turned and was walking towards the both of you, proclaiming that he had had enough exercise for one day and that he would return to the keep.  
As Joffrey stalked past, Sandor inclined his head towards you in acknowledgement and then left to follow him.  
You watched him disappear back down the path and felt a sadness inside. Sometimes he felt like closed book and you wished that you could understand him better. You wanted him to let you in, so that you could show him how much you cared for him, but he was a tough man to crack and he had built a high wall around his heart.  
_____________________________________________

The afternoon found you and Sansa sitting under the verandah, sipping afternoon tea while you sheltered from the heat. Insects flitted in and out the flowers, collecting the sweet nectar and beautiful scents filled the air around you.  
Sansa was often in a melancholy mood these days but this afternoon she seemed particularly preoccupied with something. You wanted to ask her what was wrong but in the end it was she who spoke first.

'Would you mind if I asked you something?'  
You shook your head. 'Of course not. I will try to answer if I can.'  
She looked slightly embarrassed before beginning, 'where were you really this morning?'  
You were a bit surprised by this but tried not to let it show.  
'I told you, I overslept.' You said carefully.  
'But you didn't. Not in your own bed at least...  
When you didn't arrive for breakfast, I came to look for you. You weren't in your room and your bed hadn't been slept in... Were you with someone?'  
She looked at you shyly, waiting for you to answer.

You sighed deeply; you didn't want to lie to your friend so you decided to impart as little of the truth as possible.  
'Yes, I was with somebody.'  
'A man?'  
You nodded your head and looked at her, expecting to see disappointment on her face; instead you saw that she was offering you a small smile.  
'Will you tell me about him?'

'Sansa, I would tell you if I could but the less people who know, the better.'  
'Even me?'  
'Especially you. I would hate for you to get into trouble for something that I had done.'  
'How could I get into trouble?'  
'Trust me, Joffrey would find a reason.'  
'I see... Then tell me, is he handsome?'  
You were unsure of what to say to this; was Sandor handsome? You thought about his face, strong and determined, his scar, that really didn't bother you and his eyes; he had the most expressive eyes that you had ever seen, darkest brown and liquid enough to drown in.  
'To me he is,' you said quietly.  
'And chivalrous?'  
'More than anyone would imagine.'  
'Then he is a knight?'  
'No.'  
'A nobleman then?'  
'Please Sansa, ask me no more.'  
She looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, 'are you in love with him?'  
Her question caught you off guard and you had to stop and think. Eventually you sighed and replied, 'yes. I think I am.'  
'And does he love you?'  
'I don't know.' You shook your head sadly.  
'He hasn't told you?'  
'No.'

Sansa looked at you with concern on her face, while you stared at your hands and fiddled awkwardly with your dress. You had known for a while that you were truly in love with Sandor and instead of being happy all you could feel was an empty longing.  
_____________________________________________

The day of the tourney dawned and the whole keep was alive with activity. Everyone from the lowliest maid to the highest retainer was busy preparing. The kitchens were even more hard at work than usual, making sure that the evenings feast would be unlike anything ever seen before.

You had spent the night alone in your room. Sandor had declined any unessessary distractions from you.  
A feeling of loneliness had crept upon you and despite his sullen disposition you found yourself wishing that you could spend every night with him. Sandor was a man that needed his own company though and you didn't want to drown him with your need. No matter how much you loved him or wanted to make him yours you realised you walked a fine line between acceptance and rejection.  
However you did want to make sure that you had the chance to see him before the afternoons activities started, you had made something for him, a gift, so you planned to take a walk by the pavilions to find him.

You had managed to slip away from the other ladies in your party, weary of their idle chatter and banal company, and you had made your excuses to Sansa and assured her that you would be back soon.  
The pavilions across from the lists looked amazing with their bright colours and their pennants flapping in the warm breeze. The area was busy with food vendors and wine sellers, armourers and weapon smiths; you could even buy flags to wave in your chosen colours. You thought about buying one in Sandor's colours of yellow and black but decided against it.  
You made your way to the area where the combatants had their tents, sliding quietly between them so no one would see you.  
Sandor was busy saddling his horse, Stranger, and he was surprised to see you.  
'What are you doing here?' He grumbled quietly. 'Someone will see you.'  
'Would that really be so terrible?'  
He didn't answer but carried on with what he was doing.  
You moved to say hello to Stranger and lifted your hand to his soft muzzle. The horse pushed against you and snuffled into your palm.  
'He must like you.' Sandor observed.  
You smiled. 'Why's that?'  
'Well he hasn't tried to bite you yet.'  
'Bad tempered, like his owner?'  
'Only sometimes...Why have you come?'  
'I have something for you.' You untied the silk from around your waist that you had carefully embroidered with your initials and offered it to him, smiling shyly.  
'Nobody has ever given me a favour before.'  
He looked at you with genuine feeling in his eyes.  
'Well they have now Sandor Clegane. Just make sure you don't die out there, I would never forgive you.'  
'I'm not planning on it. By the way, I've been drawn against Trant. Do you want me to kill him for you?'  
You shook your head, 'you don't need to kill a man for me Sandor. Just come back in one piece.' Sandor moved to stand before you and in a rare moment of tenderness placed his hand on your cheek.  
You could feel yourself trembling under his touch and blushing at the intensity of his gaze. 

Just then you could hear your name being called and the moment was broken; Sansa was making her way over to you with an unreadable expression on her face. You said your goodbyes to Sandor and left to intercept her.  
Sliding your arm into hers you steered her towards the lists.  
'What are you doing?' She exclaimed in disbelief. 'You gave your favour to the Hound?'  
'Don't call him that, his name is Sandor.' You almost snapped at her.  
'I don't care what his name is, he's still Joffrey's dog.'  
You unlaced your arm and carried on walking; Sansa reached out to stop you.  
'Wait.' She said. 'I didn't mean to upset you.'  
You turned to face her so you could hear what she had to say.  
'I'm sorry,' she said apologetically.  
You nodded your acceptance.  
Sansa took a deep breath before asking, 'is that who you have been with?'  
'Yes.'  
'Well so much for keeping it a secret. I'm not the only one who noticed your little display of affection.' She indicated with her eyes and you looked over to where Ser Meryn was loitering with other members of the Kingsguard. They were looking at you and Sansa and laughing about something.  
'He won't be laughing so much when Sandor puts him on his ass in the joust,' you scowled.  
'Come on,' Sansa said, pulling you along beside her. 'We need to get back to our seats, Joffrey will be mad if I am late.'

As the afternoon got started and the sun climbed higher in the sky the heat in the stands became unbearable. Joffrey lounged on his throne, drinking wine, eating and generally being obnoxious. Every now and then he would direct questions or comments to Sansa which she tried to dutifully answer. If she faltered he would reprimand her and embarrass her in front of everyone.  
Sandor was right in one thing; Joffrey really was a shit and you hoped that one day he would get his comeuppance, preferably before Sansa was forced to marry him.

When you heard Sandor being introduced Sansa looked at you knowingly and squeezed your hand. Neither of you had any love for Ser Meryn so you were both hoping to witness his humiliation. A match consisted of three passes, unless of course a rider was unhorsed before hand.  
Both riders presented themselves to Joffrey before taking their places. Sandor managed a quick look in your direction and you could feel your heart beating faster with anticipation.  
As they made their first pass you clutched Sansa's hand tightly; she looked at you worriedly. There was a loud crash and splinters were sent flying. As the dust settled you could see that Ser Meryn was laying flat on his back in the dirt.  
You almost jumped out of your seat in an unseemly display of excitement and relief; if it wasn't for Sansa pulling you down, you would have.  
Joffrey was up on his feet applauding the Hound and Ser Meryn was dusting himself off with a look of pure hatred on his face.  
Sandor approached Joffrey and bowed his head whilst his opponent stalked out of the lists with his horse in tow.  
The afternoon carried on in much the same vein until all the matches had been fought and Jaime Lannister was announced the champion.  
_____________________________________________

The banquet that evening was indeed splendid but you found yourself feeling out of place. Sansa was sat at the high table with Joffrey, and Sandor was standing watch behind him. You wondered when, if at all, he would get time to eat. The rest of the Kingsguard who weren't on duty sat eating and drinking together on the opposite table. You were sitting further down the hall, squeezed between two people that you didn't know and had no interest in talking to.

When everyone had finished eating, the evening carried on with music and dancing and other forms of raucous entertainment. People were getting louder and louder with every cup of ale or wine they consumed, and you had certainly had more than you would normally.  
You decided to make your excuses and inform Sansa that you would be retiring for the night. Your eyes flicked over to Sandor and he nodded his goodnight.

The halls and corridors of the keep were quiet and empty although you could still hear the noise drifting from the banqueting hall behind you. Soon though, as you got further away, all you could hear was the sound of your own feet.  
However, you soon became aware of other footsteps. You glanced behind you but could see nobody there. When you turned to carry on though, someone stepped out in front of you from behind a pillar. It was Ser Meryn and he was joined by Ser Boris Blount.

'Well look at what we have here. The Hound's bitch. Going somewhere are we?'  
You tried to pull yourself up tall and look him in the face. 'Yes. Please move aside.'  
'I don't think so,' he drawled as he stepped closer. 'I've a mind to see for myself what Clegane is so interested in.'  
He grabbed your face and pulled you near. 'Hmm, pretty enough, but there must be more to it than that... Boris, hold her.'  
Panic exploded inside you as you were grabbed from behind and your arms wrenched behind your back. Twisting and bucking in his grasp you tried your hardest to break free but it was no use. Ser Meryn was reaching for your skirts, trying to pull them up your legs but you managed to kick him away. He was cursing you and calling you every vile name under the sun.  
'When I'm done with you, Clegane won't want to go near you ever again.'  
He reached again and you were able to land a kick to his groin; he snarled and grabbed you, lashing out and back-handing you across the face.  
For a moment you reeled in shock before you felt something sharp at your throat. Ser Meryn had drawn his dagger and it was now poised, pressing down on your skin.  
You stopped your struggling and held still, your breathing coming in shallow gasps. You looked at him with contempt, anger and rage roiling through your mind.

He moved the dagger and traced it down your throat and across your breast, all the way down to the front of your dress. The silk parted like ripe flesh and fell away to leave you exposed.  
'Please,' you began to beg. 'Don't do this.'  
He leaned in towards you and you could smell the wine on his breath, his free hand touching you. You flinched at the contact and he laughed. 'This will be the sweetest revenge,' he whispered.

All of a sudden you felt his weight pulled off you and saw Sandor's mailed fist smashing into his jaw. Trant hadn't seen it coming and his head snapped back as he sprawled on the floor.  
'You stupid, fucking cunt,' Sandor snarled as you took a hurried step away from the two men. Blount was nowhere to be seen you realised, having run off like the coward he was. Sandor grabbed Trant from the floor and hit him again, once, twice before sending him stumbling backwards. He was bleeding from his nose and from a cut above his eye.  
You stepped in to hold Sandor back before he punched him again. 'Sandor! Stop. That's enough...No more.'  
He shrugged your hand away before pulling Trant towards his face. 'Listen here you fucking bastard, if you so much as touch her again, I will fucking kill you...Do you understand?'  
Trant nodded that he understood and Sandor shoved him back onto the floor.  
He turned to you and grabbed your arm, propelling you out of the room and up the stairs. 'Come on, let's get out of here.'  
'Ow, Sandor, you're hurting me. Let go.'  
He didn't seem to hear you, just kept hold of you tightly until you reached his room.

He threw the door open and pushed you inside. You were scared, you had never seen him so angry before. Was he angry at you? At Trant? Or at himself? You couldn't tell.  
He began stripping his armour and throwing it in the corner while you stood and watched. He paced back and forth across the room, scowling and cursing and then suddenly he turned and advanced towards you.

Your breath left you as he grabbed you and pushed you up against the door with all his weight behind him. One of his hands grabbed your face to make you look at him, his fingers wrapped in your hair, pulling it tightly.  
'Look at me,' he snarled. 'I know what you want me to say, what you want me to tell you, but I can't.'  
His breathing was ragged and on the edge.  
'Sandor, please.' Your voice was shaking, partly with fear but also with desire.  
'For fucks sake stop talking will you. Let me finish.'  
He was so close to you, bearing down, his face looming before you.  
'When I saw him, back there, and what he was trying to do, there was no way I was ever going to let him touch you. You are mine. Do you understand that?'  
You nodded your head, not daring to utter another word.  
'Mine. No other man will ever touch you again. I will do whatever it takes to protect you.'  
You were trembling uncontrollably; you didn't understand. Was this an admission of love or possession?  
He pulled you fiercely to his lips, crushing them against yours almost painfully and with such obvious need. You responded in the only way you could by wrapping your arms around his neck and returning the kiss.  
The heat between you was unbearable, a fire that could only be quenched by one thing. Sandor made short work of what was left of your dress while you fumbled with undoing his pants. In the next instance he was between your thighs, pushing up into you while he held you against the door.  
You clung to him as if your life depended on it while he took you hard and fast. You cried out his name at the end while he finished inside you, and then, when all your strength had faded he supported you in his arms and held you tightly.

Eventually he lifted you and carried you over to the bed. He discarded the rest of his clothing before crawling in and wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you close to his chest and stroked your hair to comfort you. You wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't fall; you felt numb to your bones. He placed kisses to your head and whispered your name.  
As your lay there you thought about the paradox that he was; caring, violent, honourable, debased and flawed beyond help but you loved him more in that minute than you ever had.  
You considered what had just happened between you; did he frighten you? Yes, sometimes, you would be a fool if he didn't. Would he ever hurt you though? No, you didn't think that he would.  
Eventually your breathing relaxed and you could feel yourself drifting towards sleep, knowing that you were safe in his arms.  
'Sandor?' You asked tentatively, unsure of whether he was still awake.  
'Hmm?' He rumbled, low in his chest.  
'I love you.'  
There was a moments silence before he replied. 'I know you do.'  
He kissed you once more before pulling you near and slowly sinking into a satiated sleep.  
_____________________________________________

When you woke the following morning it was to the sound of Sandor snoring softly beside you. You wriggled close to him and placed a kiss on his shoulder, hoping to wake him gently.  
'Sandor? You whispered. 'We need to be getting up.'  
'Fuck getting up.' Was his gruff response.  
'But Joffrey and Sansa...'  
'Fuck them...I'm tired of dealing with everyone else's shit.'  
'Come on, we have to go.'

You got up and went to find your clothes from last night. Sandor carried on complaining as he hauled himself out of bed.  
'I don't seem to have anything suitable to wear.' You said as you held up your torn dress.  
'Here, put this on.' Sandor threw you one of his shirts.  
You pulled it over your head and looked at yourself; it was a bit big. A smile crossed his face when he saw you.  
'Hang on a minute.' He said. 'I might have something else.

He knelt in front of the chest and began to search through it. It was a few moments before he found what he wanted, right at the bottom; his cloak. Something that he hadn't worn since King Robert's visit to the north. As he pulled it out though, something else caught his eye; bundled up next to it was another cloak but this one much different from the first. He reached out to touch it, feeling the rich fabric between his fingers. It was woven in black and gold with a thick fur trim and embroidered with the sigil of house Clegane. It had belonged to his mother; the cloak that his father had given her on their wedding day. The only thing he had left of her and the only thing that he had brought with him to Kings Landing.  
He stared at it for several moments before you asked him what was wrong.  
'Nothing.' He let go of the cloak and squashed it back into the corner, pulling the rest of the clothing over the top and then lowering the lid of the chest.  
'Here, put this on. Can't have you running round the keep in just my shirt.'  
He held the cloak out for you and you stepped into it. As he wrapped it around your shoulders he placed a soft kiss to your forehead.  
_____________________________________________

When you arrived back in your room Sansa was waiting for you.  
'Quickly, you must get ready. Joffrey wants to see you.  
'Joffrey? Why does he want to see me?'  
'I don't know, he just told me to fetch you. You need to get dressed.' She looked at what you were wearing but didn't bother saying anything.  
Instead she handed you one of your dresses and then left the room. She returned a few moments later with a tray.  
'Here, eat this before you go,' she said, handing you a piece of toast.

There was a knot of uncertainty growing in your stomach as you approached the small audience room and it was only made worse when you entered and saw that Sandor was also there.  
Joffrey looked at you with narrow eyes and a pinched face.  
'I'm so glad you could join us,' he quipped. 'Shall we begin?'

Standing to Joffrey's left side was Ser Meryn, looking slightly worse for wear. His right eye was swollen shut and was coloured a vivid shade of purple and black. You glanced at Sandor but he was keeping his head bowed and his eyes on the floor.

'It has recently been brought to my attention that the two of you seem to be enjoying some kind of inappropriate relationship.'  
You felt your heart jump at Joffrey's words and dread start to creep in.  
'May I remind you Clegane that you are sworn to the Kingsguard...'  
You frowned. That was an absurd thing to say you thought. A Kingsguard was forbidden from taking a wife but it never stopped any of them from bedding women all over King's Landing and beyond.  
'And you,' he said, turning his attention in your direction. 'I can't possibly have you distracting my dog from his duties. It seems I will have to find another way for you to occupy your time. Perhaps a marriage of a more suitable nature.'

'I thought about giving you to Ser Meryn but as he is also in the Kingsguard I should probably look elsewhere. Am I right in thinking that you have a brother Ser Meryn?'  
'An older brother, your Grace.'  
'And is he in need of a wife?'  
'He is always on the lookout for a new wife, your Grace.'  
'Perfect! Please inform him that we have found a suitable candidate.'  
'Yes your Grace. I will see to it right away.'  
_____________________________________________

That evening Sandor sat in his room alone. One candle burned lazily on the table, casting dark shadows across the walls. He had been drinking and the nearly empty bottle was clutched in his hand.  
Folded in front of him was the cloak he had found in the bottom of the chest. He reached out and touched it, feeling it's softness and running his fingers through the fur. He ran his hand over the sigil, contemplating it's meaning and wondered what you would look like wearing it.  
Beside it was the favour that you had given him at the joust. He picked it up and crumpled it into his fist, and then held it to his face, inhaling your scent. Abruptly he stood, tipped the chair over backwards and hurled the wine bottle at the wall with a gutteral grunt. The glass shattered into pieces and the remnants of the dark red liquid ran down the wall like blood. He grabbed the cloak and the silk and stalked over to the chest where he buried them as far down inside as he could.

Just then there was a knock at the door. He scowled at the interuption but went to answer it none the less. He relaxed when he saw it was you and let the tension ease from his muscles. He sighed deeply and held the door open for you to come in.  
You looked around, and then down at the floor as your feet crunched on the broken glass.  
'What happened here? Are you okay?'  
'I'm fine...What about you?'  
You looked at him sadly and shook your head. There was a lump in your throat that wouldn't go away and you could feel it slowly choking you.  
Sandor stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around you; you laid your head against his chest and finally let the tears fall.  
'I'm sorry.' You managed to say.  
'Don't be... It wasn't your fault. I'm as much to blame as anyone.'  
He was running his hands up and down your back in a soothing motion and you could feel yourself relaxing in his embrace.  
'You won't have to marry him you know.'  
'How so?'  
'I made a promise, remember?.. 'I'll kill him first.'  
'And are you going to kill Joffrey too?'  
'Fuck Joffrey.'  
After a moment he lifted your head and wiped the tears from your face. He gazed at you steadily as if thinking about something.  
'I have something for you.'  
You looked at him quizzically and he moved over to the chest.  
When he came back you saw that he had a cloak in his hands. You recognised what it was straight away.  
'You have a marriage cloak?' You looked at him in disbelief.  
'It was the one my father gave to my mother.'  
'And you still have it?'  
'I guess I'm just sentimental.' He said with a wry smile. 'But don't tell anyone...Here.' He held it out for you to put on, placing it on your shoulders and then turning you so he could see you. He took your face in his hands and looked deep into your eyes.  
'Please keep it safe for me, I promise you, we will need it one day.'  
'But you are Kingsguard.'  
He shook his head. 'Not forever...'


End file.
